Sunday at the Softball Park
Swarthy men speak a foreign lingo,
Whacking the ball 300 feet
I feel like a puny gringo.
Just a way they look,
A first-baseman fry cook,
For the current game to finish,
Not a single one of these guys
Is anywhere thinnish.
But, they can whack that softball
All the way out to Howe,
That’s a home-run and then some
And now it’s time for some chow.